Waking Dreams
by Honorine
Summary: For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come? Deathfic, but hopefully still happy. S.Mc slash.


Waking Dreams

Summary: "For in that sleep of death what dreams may come…" (Death!fic, but somehow still happy, I hope…)

Rating: K+ for slash and character death.

Pairing: S/Mc

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Shakespeare provided me with the summary, but if you didn't know that then your education has been sorely neglected.

((Author's Note: Takes place after Nemesis and mentions the events of the TNG episodes Sarek and Unification (Parts 1 and 2). I don't think you need to see the episodes to get this, but it would definitely help. I for one haven't seen those episodes or watched that movie in years, so some details might be a bit off… If so, sorry.))

His quarters on Romulus were located deep beneath the ground. It seemed no matter how high he turned the thermostat he still felt cold, so rather than drain the power and draw attention to the current safe-house of the Romulans who supported is proposal for reunification, he opted to keep the room at its normal temperature. The walls all around him were damp and smelled like mold, even though his compatriots kept the room sterile. The room was too moist, the air too thick. There was no logic in further trying to seek comfort where he knew it could not be found.

Vulcans may have learned to live in the cool caverns of the mountains, even chosen to give birth in such caverns, but the caves of Vulcan were nothing like this despicable place. Spock had never felt so claustrophobic, and he'd been in far smaller and deeper places than this. It didn't help that he was suffering from a fever that left him shaking in his bones. One of Spock's younger supporters had insisted he seek medical attention, and rather than asking a Romulan surgeon to attempt to diagnose him, they had called the Enterprise-E in on a special mission. Dr. Crusher had been kind but succinct: Spock would not live through the week. A strain of Romulan flu had given him pneumonia and at his age, his lungs could not endure the disease. He was dying.

Captain Picard had tried to console him, but the man had no news which could lift Spock's spirits. Jim had been found alive, only to truly die shortly afterwards. Scotty was on Earth, and Spock could not contact his old friend before he died, even if he got on the Enterprise now and they travelled at maximum warp to reach the old Scotsman. Spock was pleased that he too had not truly died when Spock had heard he had and that even now he was putting his vast experience to use with Starfleet's engineers. Nyota, Hikaru and Pavel were all still involved in the affairs of the 'Fleet, and while their assignments brought them closer to the Romulan Neutral Zone, none of them could abandon their posts even to visit one such as Spock. Not that – according to Picard – every effort wouldn't be made or that his life wasn't as critical as their missions, but that the Neutral Zone was still too dangerous to bring such important members of the 'Fleet; the Romulan Neutral Zone was still a dangerous place. He could not even take comfort in knowing that Dr. McCoy was going to somehow outlive him; he had long ago stood at his old friend's deathbed and recited his eulogy.

Spock admired Picard, and knew his father had placed a great deal of trust and intimacy with the man, but he did not want this mere acquaintance to stand beside him as he left this life. He did not know Dr. Crusher and she was a poor substitute for the only physician he had trusted with his life. His Romulan followers all seemed to think he would miraculously pull through and with a nod of his head settle a centuries long dispute between their two peoples, and he neither wanted to be treated like a demi-god nor did he want to disappoint these people who trusted him so much, so he had sent them all away. His superior ears could hear his Romulan supporters asking Dr. Crusher to allow them in to see Spock, and he could hear Picard and Crusher murmuring to each other about how it pained them to see Spock in this state. He ignored them. He did not want pity or sympathy, he merely wanted peace. Unfortunately, with his mind in its current feverish state, he could hardly concentrate on what part of him hurt the most, much less on the logic and nature of life and the universe.

He supposed he should have realized that if no one had been permitted into the room, the cool, comforting pressure against his forehead was probably a hallucination, but it felt so pleasant that he did not attempt to dispel the sensation.

"You've got a fever of 137 degrees Fahrenheit, Spock."

"Only you would insist on dictating my temperature in that archaic form of measurement, Doctor."

A familiar face looked down at Spock, blue eyes as bright and lively as the first time he'd seen them. "I can't imagine you're feeling too well, right now."

"Dr. Crusher tells me I am dying."

"You let me be the judge of that one," McCoy grumped, crossing his arms- arms that were not pale, wrinkled, and blue-lined with advanced age, but well toned and lightly tanned. "I was examining your insides before her granddaddy was examining her grandma's outsides."

"I did not need that particular mental image, Doctor."

"Are you really gonna address me as Doctor on your deathbed?"

"I did last time." As it were. There had been no bed, but it was the last time he'd spoken to the man before he died.

"So you did," McCoy chuckled, "but not on _my_ deathbed, thank God."

"No. I called you Leonard that night, but I did call you Dr. McCoy in the eulogy."

"How sentimental of you."

"Is Dr. Crusher correct, Leonard?" Spock asked, quietly looking at his hands. "Am I dying?"

McCoy sat beside him. Spock could feel the warmth of his body against his hip, even though the bed did not move under him as though weight had been put on it. "You're over 200 years old, Spock. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

"I am aware of my own mortality; I simply did not expect to meet my end so soon."

"Because your father lived to be over 300?"

"Yes." No, but he could not explain his reasoning, not even to himself.

"You're half human. I lived to be 180-something, but I had cybernetic implants and all sorts of crazy machines keeping me running. You ain't runnin' on anymore than what God gave you and what you once put in my tender care. It makes sense that you'd come to rest somewhere between the natural life-spans of a human and a Vulcan."

"Logical."

"You know you're hallucinating, right? If anything, me sounding logical proves it."

"You looking as young as you did the day I met you proves it. I suppose I did not realize how handsome you were until now."

"And delirious… Why don't you lie your head back?" McCoy pat the pillow behind Spock's head, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

Spock did. "Why did we never become lovers?"

"You were too damned logical, and I was too damned old." Spock felt his chest ache in a way that was not connected to his pneumonia.

"I loved you all the same, as you did me."

"You loved Jim. Don't bother trying to deny it."

"I did, but he was my brother," Spock reached up to caress the old, familiar face, "you were something different."

He could almost convince himself that McCoy's jaw was rough with stubble and dry skin. "Last thoughts of a dying man?"

"I was once asked if I regretted anything. I said no at the time."

"You weren't facing your own end, at the time."

"It was only a few years ago."

"A few years can be a few lifetimes." McCoy looked at the door as Spock heard one of his followers begin to weep. "Can they let you go see the stars?"

"It would be unwise to move me, I should think."

"Pah, you're gonna die anyway. You oughta be able to see the stars one last time."

"I shall ask." Spock leaned forward so he could feel his human friend's breath against his own lips. "Will you stay?"

"Don't, Spock," McCoy said pulling back. "I don't want you to find air where you should feel flesh and blood."

"Stay, please," Spock whispered.

"Hey," McCoy tapped his own forehead, "we can't seem to get rid of each other. And if you can convince little Miss Crusher out there that there ain't nothin' wrong with your mental state, she won't pump you full of drugs to make me go away."

Spock nodded. "I shall not tell her that you are here if you will not."

McCoy smirked at the irony. "You won't have to worry about that. Can you stand? You probably shouldn't, but," he hopped up and offered his hand to Spock, "I know you'd never ask for anything lying down."

"Had we seized the opportunity, you may well have heard me ask for many things while lying down," Spock said with a smirk.

McCoy's face flushed. "Dirty old man. C'mon, get up. They'll get you a nice hover chair so you can sit and watch the stars go by. Do you want a space funeral again?"

"The stars are my home in a way Vulcan and Earth never were."

McCoy nodded. "Well, home is where the heart is. C'mon. Hup, hup, let's move it, soldier. Every minute you spend lyin' about here is another minute your body gets too weak for transport."

Spock nodded and slowly pushed himself to his feet. McCoy hovered near him, his hands spread as though to catch Spock if he should fall, but his efforts were unnecessary; Spock was dying, not infirm. The Vulcan pushed his door open.

Young Romulans and old humans looked at him with surprise. Spock wasn't sure why.

"If you do not mind, Captain, I would like to see the stars one last time."

Picard and Crusher exchanged a glance and the Romulans frowned. They all knew he meant from the Enterprise, for he was still _persona non grata_ on the surface of Romulus. "We would be honored to have you aboard, Ambassador, but I'm not sure if you are fit to travel."

"Captain Picard is right. You shouldn't even be out of bed." Crusher reached for his arm to guide him back. Spock put his hands behind his back, both to prevent her from touching him and to affirm his stance on the subject.

"It has recently occurred to me that I am going to die anyway, whether I remain in a bed for week or sit in a chair for an hour and watch the stars." Spock paused to cough and Crusher looked as though her point had been made, but Spock was still as stubborn as he ever was. "Take me to your ship so that I may prepare for death as I see fit," he ordered, his voice gravelly as the coughs left his throat raw.

"You tell 'em, Spock." McCoy chuckled. Spock merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"Very well, Ambassador." Picard tapped his communicator on his chest. "Mr. LaForge, three to beam up."

"I always hated these things," McCoy grumped. Spock nodded in acknowledgement.

Dr. Crusher insisted that Spock ride in a hoverchair to the observation deck and Spock did not protest for he felt too short of breath to walk. Spock took the woman by the arm as she lined him up in front of a window. He didn't pull his gaze away from the stars as they went from fixed points to whizzing lines of light against the inky expanse of space. Spock didn't care really where they were going.

"May I ask you something, Doctor?"

Crusher knelt beside Spock, tucking a strand of her graying hair behind her ear, "Anything you like."

"Ensure that Captain Picard knows I wish to have a space funeral."

"No problem." She whispered, trying to keep the tremors away from Spock's old ears.

"Leonard once told me that home is where your heart is. I should very much like to go home."

"Leonard?" She asked softly.

"Doctor McCoy. Forgive me, I do not often refer to him by his given name."

"I didn't know you meant that Leonard. You've probably known so many."

"No," Spock stated, shaking his head, "or if I did, I only referred to them by their family names or ranks."

Crusher nodded and looked out to the stars. "I can't imagine being close to someone and not calling them by their given name. From what I hear, you, Captain Kirk, and Doctor McCoy were very close."

"Jim was my brother. Leonard was," Spock shrugged, "something else entirely. It took me until tonight to realize this."

Crusher blushed a bit. "I can appreciate that."

Spock nodded – his chest and head too heavy to continue speaking.

"You've gone and embarrassed the poor girl, Spock." McCoy had stayed with him the whole time and Spock liked to think he was now gently rubbing the Vulcan's shoulder.

"Forgive me." Spock breathed softly.

"Oh, no, no… I wasn't upset, Mr. Spock." Crusher said, assuming that he had been talking to her.

Spock just lolled his head to the side a bit and Spock imagined that McCoy stroked his hair gently.

"Close your eyes, Spock."

Spock shook his head minutely. "The stars," he sighed as if that were any sort of explanation. Had he looked at her, he would have seen Crusher pull out her triorder to check his status.

McCoy smiled. "Close your eyes, Spock. The stars will still be there, I promise."

Spock nodded and closed his eyes. Before everything went dark he saw blue lights dance in front of him and he felt warm, moist pressure against his lips and he sighed as he finally was allowed to rest after all this time.

Dr. Crusher closed her tricorder and stood to go tell her captain.

--

_Spock woke up bent over a desk in the lab, his computer whirring away as it calculated and configured a solution. McCoy was crouched beside him, his cool fingers grazing against his forehead and his lips only millimeters away from Spock's._

_"You shouldn't fall asleep here, Spock. That's what we've got beds for."_

_"Forgive me, Doctor, I was attempting to find a solution to the," but gentle lips stopped his from continuing._

_"The computer ain't gonna work any faster with you sleepin' on it. C'mon, I'll help you to your quarters."_

_"I need to see Jim." Spock said, stretching his neck, "Is he here?"_

_"Sure, he just got back." McCoy said with an easy smile. "You sure you don't want me to tuck you in?"_

_"Doctor…" Spock warned. McCoy just stood up and offered Spock his hand._

_"Sorry, sorry. I'm still just a bit giddy about having this handsome Vulcan all to myself."_

_Spock took McCoy by the hand and when he stood their bodies pressed close. "I can appreciate your sentiment but I…"_

_"You missed him. Don't worry, I understand. I missed him, too." McCoy kissed Spock again, soft and slow. "Let's get on down to the bridge then."_

_Spock nodded and allowed McCoy to lead him by the hand from the labs._

_When they got to the bridge Spock let out something akin to a sigh of relief. He ran a hand across the red banister and took in a brief survey of all the familiar monitors, the blue science scanner, the view screen, and young men and women at their stations, pleased to see the bridge running so smoothly. He noted that Pavel, Hikaru and Nyota were not at their posts, but Spock wasn't surprised; it was graveyard shift and they weren't expected for a long time yet. And there in the center of it all, sat Jim, looking about the bridge as though he hadn't seen it in centuries. Their eyes met and Jim smiled._

_"Hey, Spock. I'm home."_

_"Obviously, Captain." Spock agreed. Kirk smiled even wider. _

_"What brings you here at this hour?"_

_"I wished to inform you of our current status, sir, so that I might retire sometime tonight."_

_"He fell asleep in the lab again, Jim," McCoy complained. Jim gave him an understanding smile._

_"Not even going to let the man welcome me home, Bones? Where's that famous Southern hospitality?"_

_"Spock ain't Southern, he's a Vulcan."_

_"He could be from southern Vulcan."_

_"Jim," Spock interrupted. "At present the computer is calculating the necessary amount of energy to power the world below us. It is a time of great turmoil for them, and we have been ordered to do what we can to assist."_

_"So much for the Prime Directive." McCoy chuckled. "Okay Spock, time for bed." The human gripped him above the elbow and guided him to the turbolift._

_"Go easy on him, Bones. He looks like he's had a rough day."_

_McCoy smiled and bounced on his heels, but before he could make a joke, Spock nodded quickly at Jim and led McCoy back into the turbolift to head to his quarters and rest._


End file.
